


been a couple days since i slipped and said something sorta like your name

by sleep_deprived



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: 2 halves of a whole dumbass, Adult Eddie Kaspbrak, Adult Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Adult Losers Club (IT), Adult Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak Gets Divorced, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak is Whipped, Endgame Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Everybody Lives, First Kiss, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Richie Tozier, I love my boys, IT Chapter Two Fix-It, Love Confessions, M/M, Mentioned Losers Club (IT), Mentioned Mike Hanlon, Mentioned Myra Kaspbrak, Mutual Pining, Not Canon Compliant, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier is Whipped, Richie Tozier is a Mess, Songfic, Steve is fed up but he tries his best, They meet up before going back to derry, after the call from mike, based on a song by FINNEAS, he wrote one (1) song and it was about eddie, no beta we die like men, okay and laughter, overuse of italics and the word fuck, richie tozier can sing, why are there so little synonyms for laughter that resonate with me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 09:55:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27469105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleep_deprived/pseuds/sleep_deprived
Summary: His whole career was doomed if he didn’t come up with something fast. Suddenly, a voice in the back of his head startled him with it’s clarity.“Improvise, dipshit.”Twenty-seven years later, Richie still recognized that voice immediately. Eddie Kaspbrak. Well, thirteen year old Eddie Kaspbrak, but still. He felt like he was about to cry again. Richie was losing his fucking mind.[Or: The one where Richie wrote a song about missing someone he doesn't remember until that fateful call from Mike]Based off the song "I Lost a Friend" by FINNEAS
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 2
Kudos: 72





	been a couple days since i slipped and said something sorta like your name

**Author's Note:**

> For the sake of the fic, pretend the show Mike called Richie at was in New York City.
> 
> Also, this has barely been edited, so I apologize for any mistakes. I finished this at 3 am.

“I’ll see you soon, Rich,” Mike said through the phone, his voice chillingly composed, before he hung up. Eerie, uncomfortable silence took over the dark dressing room in New York City. Richie stood frozen with his phone glued to his ear long after the line died. The phone call was playing on loop in his head. 

_ “Mike. Mike Hanlon. From Derry.” _

_ “You made a promise.” _

_ “It’s time to come home.” _

Everything was coming back to him in huge, violent and fast waves. Derry. Blurry faces of friends he could barely picture. Summers spent and wasted away at the quarry, in the clubhouse, with flashlights under blankets, on bikes through the neighborhood. Being chased through the streets by Bowers and his gang. Something...else. Something that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Something that had traumatized them all enough to leave one after the other. His whole childhood.  _ How the hell did I just fucking forget?!  _ Richie thought desperately. 

He hadn’t even realized that he had run outside of the building until he was upchucking his lunch over the balcony.

“Dude! Dude. What the fuck? You were fine, like, five seconds ago,” his manager, Steve, said from beside him. Richie took a deep breath and turned to face him. That was a mistake. A huge fucking mistake. Steve was so much like him. So much like…

“Eddie,” he whispered. So much emotion was attached to that name.

“Who was it? Who called? Huh? Rich? Rich? Talk to me.” For as well as Richie was processing his voice, Steve could have been miles away. He was too distracted by this new wave of memories. This one was so much more powerful and aggressive than the others. It was like he was back in his teenage body again, the painful longing and love as raw and as strong as it had been then. Stronger even, he realized, as his childhood of silent pining crossed in front of his mind in mere seconds that felt longer than a lifetime. He felt hot tears start to stream down his face.

“You’re on in two minutes. You good? ‘Cause you look not good,” Steve continued, seeming a bit desperate as he looked Richie up and down and handed him a rag to wipe his mouth with. 

_ Right. The show. Shit,  _ Richie thought as he mentally talked himself down from jumping off the balcony and running away. “I’m fine,” he finally said, pushing past Steve and walking back inside. His manager followed close behind.

“You’re fine? Okay. And we’re walking. We’re walking.” 

“Sixty seconds,” one of the tech crew guys announced as they passed by. Richie picked up his pace, but he couldn’t decide if it was because of how anxious and awe-stricken he felt or because he actually cared about making it on stage on time. 

“Even faster. All right,” Steve said, moving to catch up and match Richie’s speed. “Can we get him a bottle of water, maybe?”

“Bourbon,” Richie corrected, the memory of Derry and, more specifically, Eddie leaving him in desperate need for a drink

“Bourbon. Sure, sure.”

“And a mint,” he added once he finally noticed the horrid aftertaste of vomit in his mouth. Richie shoved a curtain aside as he walked through a doorway leading to the stage’s left wing.

“It is showtime,” Steve said with a smile in hopes of getting the other man to match his enthusiasm. It didn’t work.

“I don’t think I can do this.”

“It’s what you do. You kill. You’re a killer.”

“That was fast,” Richie commented as a crew member handed him a glass and a mint, ignoring Steve’s useless attempt at boosting morale. It was already way too fucking late for that.

“Okay. We are good to go and…” Steve grabbed Richie’s arm as he threw back his drink and tried to leave through the emergency exit. “Hey! Where are we going? Where are we going?” He redirected a reluctant Richie in the direction of the stage. “No. This way. Attaboy. Okay.” They both stopped at the edge of the stage. 

“All right. How do I look?” Richie asked, knowing that he had no choice but to do the show. 

“Your hands are shaking, Rich.” He looked down at his hands. 

“Shit,” he cursed before shoving the glass into Steve’s hands and walking onto the stage, hoping to whatever higher being that would listen that no one could tell how rough he felt. The announcer only taunted him. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Richie Tozier!” The crowd roared, and Richie waved back as the spotlight centered on him. He grabbed the mic and took a deep breath. 

“All right! How are we doing tonight?” The crowd cheered louder before silence took over, indicating that it was time for the dreaded routine to start. “So, my girlfriend caught me, uh, masturbating to her friend’s Facebook page.” A lie. There was no girlfriend. Never had been and never will be. “And, uh, so now I’m in Masturbaters Anonymous.” The crowd laughed. “And I stand up at the first meeting and I say ‘My name is Richie Trashmouth’-” Richie froze, the name “Trashmouth” dredging up even more insistent memories.  _ Fuck! Not fucking now! That’s where that came from?  _ “Trashmouth. Uh,” he repeated. “Forgot the joke.” 

“You suck!” someone in the crowd yelled. Richie laughed, agreeing with the man inside his head. He does suck. However, he still has to get through this show whether he likes it or not. It was then he realized that, to his own humiliation, he had forgotten the whole goddamn set his ghost writers had put together.  _ What the hell do I do now?  _ He was mentally panicking and could feel Steve staring at him. His whole career was doomed if he didn’t come up with something fast. Suddenly, a voice in the back of his head startled him with it’s clarity.

_ “Improvise, dipshit.” _

Twenty-seven years later, Richie still recognized that voice immediately. Eddie Kaspbrak. Well, thirteen year old Eddie Kaspbrak, but still. He felt like he was about to cry again. Richie was losing his fucking mind. 

_ I lost my mind _

Another memory, only this time a bit more recent. When Richie was in his twenties, he wasn’t planning on becoming a full-time comedian. In fact, Richie had wanted to go into music. He had given up on that dream after accidentally getting discovered one night doing stand-up at a nightclub in Chicago, but before any of that happened he had managed to write and actually finish one song. The song was never released, but it was ready to be if he ever chose to. He had written it out of frustration and sadness one night when the hole in his chest had gotten to be too much. Why was it there? At the time, he had no idea. All he knew was that it had always felt like someone or something important was missing from his life. Finally, years later, Richie understood. It was Eddie. The whole time, it had been Eddie who had been missing. Richie had loved him all these years without even remembering him and had written that song about it. Eddie’s voice in his head spoke once more.

_ “Use that, Rich. You always wanted to be a rockstar.” _

Richie felt dizzy, but after a stretch of time that was way too long to be silent for on stage, it was all he had to work with. Time to put on a mask. “Let’s get real for a second,” he said to an anxious audience. After being met with silence, he actually laughed. 

“Yeah, yeah. Trashmouth getting serious? Now that’s the REAL punchline.” This made the crowd start to finally loosen up a little and laugh. 

“Seriously though, let’s talk the juicy adult stuff. So most of us, we got jobs, right? Even if they aren’t considered jobs by the good ‘ol government. It came with turning 18 and your parents wishing you luck before throwing you out the door and not looking back. We got doctors, engineers, business men, mechanics, fucking…..I don’t know. Risk analysts? Point is, day in and day out we all work these repetitive jobs and then we die. Oh, you enjoy going to work everyday? Fuck off dude! We all know you’re lying and it’s not impressing anyone.” The crowd roared.

“See! You all agree with me! The crazy thing is, as kids we all had these big dreams for ourselves that were immediately squashed as soon reality kicked into hyper-drive. You, front row, what did you want to grow up to be when you were a kid?” Richie asked, extending the mic to a man sitting in front of him. The man startles before answering.

“Uh, I wanted to become an astronaut.”

“Mhmm. And what are you now?”

“A bank teller.” Richie beamed down at the man, thankful that his assumption had been correct before pulling the mic back toward him and walking to center stage. 

“The world is so cruel to people with dreams. The lucky ones are the real assholes. How dare you work for what you want and actually get it?!” He can feel the weight of questioning eyes on him. 

“I’m offended that you all think I am one of the lucky ones. Just look at me! Do I look like the kinda guy that gets what he wants? Actually, don’t answer that. I want you to try to imagine prepubescent Richie Tozier. Giant, ridiculous glasses, hawaiian shirts, crude humor, knobby knees, jokes about your mom. The whole shebang.” More laughter. An hour ago, Richie hadn’t even remembered anything from before he was nineteen. Now he was describing it in detail to a crowd. The realization made his chest ache.

“When I was a kid, my dream was to be a ‘rockstar’.” A few “oohs” and “ahhs” could be heard from the audience. “Now, I was an absolute terror on the ears before my voice dropped. Teenage Richie was so discouraged by this that he completely gave up on the dream. However, when I was twenty, I wanted to try again. I got discovered for my side comedy a few months later and the dream was short lived, but before that happened I did manage to write and compose one song. I was going through quite a rough patch at that time and wrote a whole song about this lonely feeling I had about this person who was missing from my life. Who was the person, you ask? I have no fucking clue!” Now all that could be heard from the crowd was nervous laughter. 

“That is, until a few minutes ago. I assume by now you’ve all noticed that something isn’t right with me at the moment. I had an old friend call me right before the show and it really fucked with my head.” He paused, trying to read the audience before continuing. “The moral of this story is that I am going to sing my song for you all tonight. A debut of sorts.” Richie turned and made eye contact with Steve, who was staring back at him like he was crazy. However, since he knew there was no going back from this, Steve begrudgingly obliged to Richie’s silent plea and signaled the confused crew to push a piano out onto the stage. As they were doing this, Richie put the mic back in the stand and placed it where it would need to be for him to sing while playing the piano. He sat down on the piano bench once everything was out on stage and turned with a gulp to face the full house of perplexed people as the realization of what he was doing was starting to hit him.  _ Too late, idiot. You dug this grave for yourself and now you have to lay in it,  _ he thought hopelessly to himself. He adjusted the mic once more before he finally spoke again. “The, uh, the song is called ‘I Lost a Friend’. I’m kinda regretting this now because I know the people that truly know me will know exactly who it’s about, but what the hell? We’ve already derailed here tonight. Might as well keep going off the tracks.” The crowd was still silent, so Richie took that as his cue to stop talking and start. With a deep breath, he played the first note of the song.

***

Crashing your car fucking sucks. So much waiting, so many questions. The only thing really on Eddie Kaspbrak’s mind at this moment, though, was the whole reason why he had crashed his car in the first place. A phone call. Mike. Derry. The losers. His mother. Something...unfathomable. Richie. Richie  _ fucking _ Tozier. Eddie felt dizzy again and was thankful when he was finally free from the questioning to return back to his New York City apartment, where his wife, Myra, was waiting for him. Myra. Eddie felt a new kind of sick wave wash over him at the thought of her. This wasn’t the usual dread of seeing his wife. This was an even heightened version of it filled with horror and disgust. Deep down, Eddie knew he had never truly loved her, but he had stayed because something compelled him to. The refreshed memory of Sonia Kaspbrak had made it easy to finally place two and two together; he had married a woman exactly like his mother in her absence. 

“Are you alright, Eddie? You look a little pale, honey,” his elderly neighbor, Mrs. Krumb, asked. It broke him out of his spiraling train of thought and brought his attention to the fact that he was already home. He fumbled with his keys and jammed them in the lock. 

“It’s just been a long day, is all,” Eddie answered as he turned the knob and pulled the door open. It wasn’t a complete lie, but he was trying to avoid conversation right now. He dropped the keys on the table in the entryway and leaned against the back of the door once it was closed. The apartment was suspiciously quiet. “Myra?” he called out into the empty space. No response came. Eddie closed his eyes and sighed in relief. She was gone. He really was not sure how to face her right now anyway. Knowing him, he probably would’ve said some really mean and fucked up shit on impulse that he couldn’t decide whether or not she deserved. 

Without any more distractions, his brain began to wander back to where it had been before. The memories of everything from his childhood had seriously thrown him for a loop, but the memory of Richie Tozier had completely fucking destroyed him. Almost, although it felt pathetic to admit, like he had been wrecked instead of his car in the middle of that intersection. Richie Tozier with his knobby knees and lanky limbs that made him tower over Eddie. Richie Tozier with his coke bottle glasses and stupid fucking hawaiian shirts. Richie Tozier with his jokes about banging your mom and his mischievous smirk. Richie Tozier who acted like an asshole but was actually a softy who would only open up to you in private. Richie Tozier who would laugh like Eddie was the funniest person in the universe whenever he’d made a joke or quickly quipped back at him because he was the only one who could keep up. Richie Tozier who had constantly reminded him that he was nothing like the tiny and fragile boy his mother said he was. Yeah, that boy had annoyed the actual hell out of him, but he had also loved him. He-

_ Wait a fucking minute!  _ Eddie thought, his trip down memory lane being abruptly cut short before a new one could begin. This one, however, was a memory of a youth full of denial, desperate pining, unanswered questions, and love. Restless and unbridled love for his best friend. Love for Richie. 

“I loved him?” he squeaked out to nobody but himself as the tears threatened to fall. Upon further examination, Eddie gasped and covered his mouth with his hand as the tears finally spilled over. 

_ I still do, don’t I? _

That explained...a lot actually. It came as a shock to him, but also offered a weird sense of comfort at the same time. So many questions he had had for decades had been answered in the past couple of hours. The thought was overwhelming. Eddie felt his phone buzz in his pocket and sniffled as he pulled it out to check it. It was a message notification from this group chat some of his younger coworkers at the agency had put together to “try and get to know each other better” and to “help build company chemistry to ensure better service”. He thought it was a load of bull and was about to put his phone back down and ignore it, but what the notification said caught his eye. 

**_Message from Mattie_ **

_ Guess who got tickets to Trashmouth’s show tonight in NYC?! That’s right. It’s me bitches. Be jealous.  _

Trashmouth. A new memory.

_ “What was that, Eds? Sorry I wasn’t paying attention. I was thinking about the wild bone sesh I had with your mom last night.” _

_ “Beep beep, asshole!” _

_ “They don’t call me ‘Trashmouth Tozier’ for nothing, Spaghetti!” _

_ “Nobody calls you that, Rich. And I told you to stop calling me that!” _

Trashmouth was Richie. Richie had a  _ show?! _ Eddie felt his fingers moving before he could even second guess what he was doing. He had never responded to a text this fast, let alone on this dumb group chat. 

_ Where do I get the info for the show??? _

Eddie stared at the screen after hitting send as if he was trying to will Mattie to answer faster (which was exactly what he was doing). After 3 minutes of radio silence, his screen lit up.

**_Message from Mattie_ **

_ I doubt there are any tickets left but here you go _

Eddie frantically opened it and clicked on the link Mattie had attached to the message. A website full of loud colors opened up and Eddie let out yet another little squeak. It  _ screamed  _ Richie. The header of the website read “The Trashmouth Tour” in bulky letters. Eddie’s eyes scanned relentlessly through the list of dates until he got to the one for that day’s date in New York City. He clicked on it and, opting against attempting to buy tickets online, looked for where the show was being held. He opened a new tab in safari, searched for the venue's number, and hit the call button. Someone picked up after the third ring. 

“Hello! Thank you for calling-”

“Hi. Sorry to cut you off, but are there any tickets left for tonight's show?” The lady on the other line huffed before answering and he decided that he deserved that much.

“Right. Uh, lemme check for you.” The call went silent for a few seconds before the clacking of a keyboard could be heard. “We only have two tickets left. Both are in the mezzanine. I’d act fast if you want them.”

“I just need one. Can I get it over the phone and pick it up at the box office?” Eddie didn’t even bother to ask how much it was going to cost. He didn’t care.

“Yeah, I can do that for you. I just need your name, number, and card info.” After giving the woman all his information, Eddie thanked her and hung up. Once again, he was embraced by the quiet. After sitting still on the floor with his phone in his lap for God knows how long, he clicked it on again to check the time.

“Shit!” Eddie yelped, dragging a hand through his hair as he jumped up. “The show starts in an hour!” He wasted no time going to his and Myra’s shared room to change into something more casual than the business suit he had been sporting before rushing to shove his feet back into shoes. It took him all of five minutes to be ready and out the door. He left his wedding ring on the same table he had dropped his keys on as a last minute decision. That was a problem for later. Right now, he needed to get out of the apartment building and hail a taxi.

***

Actually getting to the venue and collecting his ticket was the easy part. Being there in the audience waiting for the show to start, however, was much harder. Eddie rubbed at his eyes in an attempt to help calm down. It didn’t help. He hadn’t even seen Richie yet and already felt restless and jittery. A feeling, he realized, that he hadn’t felt since he was a teenager in Derry. He shivered and took his hands away from his eyes. The place was packed with hundreds of eager and excited people. He let out a dry laugh as a strong sense of pride filled his chest. “Look at you now, Rich. You asshole,” he whispered to himself.

“What was that?” the young man seated next to him asked. Eddie startled and turned to him.

“Oh, sorry. Just talking to myself I guess.”

“It’s cool, man. Aren’t you excited? I’ve been waiting for this show for months! This guy’s hilarious!” Eddie huffed out another laugh before responding.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.” The man looked back at him in confusion, but Eddie had already forgotten about the whole exchange when the house lights began to dim. A spotlight focused on the left side of the stage and followed the man that walked out to the center as the announcer’s voice boomed through the speakers. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Richie Tozier!” Eddie inhaled sharply.  _ That’s Richie?!  _ Richie smiled out at the audience before speaking. 

“All right! How are we doing tonight?” Eddie’s brain functionality practically plummeted because  _ Why is he so fucking hot?! What the fuck!  _ This was going to be a long night.

“So, my girlfriend caught me, uh, masturbating to her friend’s Facebook page. And, uh, so now I’m in Masturbaters Anonymous.” The crowd laughed and Eddie, unamused, pursed his lips. He felt himself get elbowed in the side by the guy next to him.  _ Rude. _

“Come on, man! Not even a smile? That was hilarious!” The man said through a laugh. Eddie didn’t even spare him a glance. 

“I’ve heard better,” he mumbled before he heard Richie continue.

“And I stand up at the first meeting and I say ‘My name is Richie Trashmouth’-” When he freezes mid-sentence, the audience is overcome by an awkward silence. Now this, Eddie noted, was odd. Richie never shut up in the middle of a sentence, especially if he was telling a joke. It was a few more excruciatingly long seconds before he talked again. 

“Trashmouth. Uh-” He paused again. “Forgot the joke.” This was even weirder and very notably not normal Richie behavior.  _ How do I still know him this well after twenty-seven years?  _

“You suck!” someone in the crowd yelled and Eddie went from a state of worry and confusion to ready to flip his lid on some random asshole. A panicked and frozen Richie on stage did nothing to bring him down from it, either. More silence followed and Eddie came to the conclusion that Richie most definitely did not write his own material because there was no way he had nothing to say. Richie always had something to say.  _ Improvise, dipshit!  _ Eddie mentally screamed at him, Richie’s panic leading him into his own. As if he had actually heard his internal plea, Richie cleared his throat and opened his mouth.

“Let’s get real for a second.”

_ Oh god. _

“Yeah, yeah. Trashmouth getting serious? Now that’s the REAL punchline.” The audience finally laughed and Eddie exhaled a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. As the show went on, Eddie allowed himself to laugh as Richie poked fun at everyday life and himself as a child. That is, until he started talking about his old dream.

“Now, I was an absolute terror on the ears before my voice dropped. Teenage Richie was so discouraged by this that he completely gave up on the dream.” This made Eddie smile. Memories of days spent inside with the losers or just Richie and himself where Richie put on whole concerts with the new mixtape he had made that week filled his head and made his heart squeeze. He had always teased him for his voice cracks and squeaky high pitch, but he’d never told him to stop. Eddie had always secretly loved Richie’s voice. 

“However, when I was twenty, I wanted to try again. I got discovered for my side comedy a few months later and the dream was short lived, but before that happened I did manage to write and compose one song. I was going through quite a rough patch at that time and wrote a whole song about this lonely feeling I had about this person who was missing from my life. Who was the person, you ask? I have no fucking clue! That is, until a few minutes ago. I assume by now you’ve all noticed that something isn’t right with me at the moment. I had an old friend call me right before the show and it really fucked with my head.” The color drained from Eddie’s face. He was talking about one of the losers.  _ Which one of us did he write a song about? _ A blush crawled it’s way up his neck as Eddie found himself hoping that it was about him. 

“The moral of this story,” Richie began again, “is that I am going to sing my song for you all tonight. A debut of sorts.” 

“What the fuck?” the guy next to him whispered. Eddie’s hand flew out as he shushed him. He’d had just about enough of this annoying kid. He watched on as Richie made nervous eye contact with someone backstage and a piano was pushed out to him. He placed the mic back in the stand and set it next to him as he sat down on the piano bench. 

“The, uh, the song is called ‘I Lost a Friend’. I’m kinda regretting this now because I know the people that truly know me will know exactly who it’s about, but what the hell? We’ve already derailed here tonight. Might as well keep going off the tracks.” Eddie sat stock still as he began to play, but he felt his blood run cold when Richie started to sing. 

_ I lost a friend  _

_ Like keys in a sofa  _

_ Like a wallet in the backseat _

_ Like ice in the summer heat _

_ I lost a friend _

_ Like sleep on a red-eye _

_ Like money on a bad bet _

_ Like time worrying about _

_ Every bad thing that hasn't happened yet _

Dread filled Eddie’s stomach as blurry, fear-filled memories ran around his head. He couldn’t put his finger on what exactly he was afraid of, but he knew for a fact that it was something terrible. 

_ I know I'll be alright, but I'm not tonight _

_ I'll be lying awake counting all the mistakes I've made _

_ Replaying fights _

Bickering. Their whole childhood, Richie and Eddie had bickered. To outsiders looking in, they appeared to hate each other. To the losers, they knew that there was rarely any actual malicious intent behind the words they’d say to each other. That was just their dynamic. That was just them. 

_ I know I'll be alright, but I'm not tonight _

_ I lost a friend, I lost a friend _

_ I lost my mind, and nobody believes me _

_ Say, "I know that he don't need me _

_ 'Cause he made a little too much money to be 20 and sad" _

_ And I'll be fine without 'em _

_ But all I do is write about 'em _

_ How the hell did I lose a friend I never had? _

_ Never had _

Twenty-seven years of  _ not quite.  _ Twenty-seven years of  _ good, but not enough.  _ Twenty-seven years of  _ I feel like I’m forgetting something.  _ Twenty-seven years of  _ wait, where did I grow up?  _ Twenty-seven years of  _ something’s missing.  _

_ I'm on the mend _

_ Like I'm wearing a neck brace _

_ Like I'm sleeping in my own place _

_ Like I'm pulling all the stitches out of my own face _

_ I'm on the mend _

_ Like I'm icing a new sprain _

_ Like I'm walking on a new cane _

_ Like it's been a couple days _

_ Since I slipped and said something sorta like your name _

“Don’t call me that,” Eddie whispered. He was trying not to hope that this was about him and failing miserably. Richie continued on, repeating the chorus two more times before the song finally came to a close. Eddie felt like his limbs had turned to liquid. 

“I,uh,” Richie started to say, hands frozen and hovering over the keys. “I know you all came here to laugh and not for a concert. Sorry you wasted your money to hear my sob story. Thanks for coming out tonight.” In what seemed like a nervous, last minute decision, Richie said five words that completely and utterly destroyed him. “That was for you, Spaghetti.” Eddie watched as he practically ran off stage and let out a strained sound of distress.  _ It was about him? _

“Dude! Are you crying?” It was that guy again. Eddie swiped at his face and realized that yes, he was crying. Instead of giving the kid an answer, he stood up and asked if he could move past him.

“Uh, sure, man.” He hugged his knees to his chest to make room for Eddie to get through. Eddie squeezed past him and was suddenly extremely grateful that he had been two seats away from the aisle. Everyone started getting up as well and blocking the walkway, but he couldn’t care less as he shoved his way through every last one of them. All he cared about was getting to Richie. Sure, he didn’t have a backstage pass, but when had little things like that ever stopped him? 

“Where are you going?” a security guard asked as he grabbed Eddie’s arm, preventing him from running any further. Maybe this was going to be harder than he thought.  _ Think! _

“I just wanted to tell you that I think one of the stage lights burst during the show.” The guard let go of his arm.

“Which one?” Eddie pointed to a random suspended light and, as soon as the guard looked up and away, he booked it. 

“Hey! Get back here!” the guard yelled before he turned and chased after him. Eddie had no idea where he was going and hoped that he would be able to figure it out before he got caught.  _ Holy shit, what am I doing?!  _ The thought was meaningless, though, because there was absolutely no turning back now. He  _ really  _ did not want to get arrested. Backstage wasn’t very big, so it was actually fairly easy for Eddie to decide where to go considering the fact that there was only one hallway. After a few abrupt turns, he could hear voices and see a door up ahead.  _ Oh my god, I’m almost there. _ Just as he reached out to grab the doorknob, the guard wrapped his arms around his waist and yanked him away. 

“You’re coming with me.”

“Let go of me, you asshole!” Eddie yelped through grit teeth. “You don’t understand!”

“Oh, I understand well enough.”

“No you fucking don’t!” He was getting desperate now. In a last ditch attempt to escape, he started to flail his limbs like a child. The door swung open in front of them and Steve stepped out with his arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed.

“What the hell is going on out here?” he demanded as he took in the sight in front of him.

“Sorry, Steve. Probably a super fan or something. He snuck past me,” the guard answered, his grip on Eddie tightening. 

“Just get him out of-” Steve started before he was cut off.

“It’s alright, Steve,” Richie said from inside the room, not having stepped out yet. He was so close and sounded extremely drained. “I’ll just give him an autograph. I know how irresistible I am.” Before he could even think about it, Eddie huffed and opened his mouth.

“Beep beep, Rich.” Steve raised his eyebrows at him before jumping at the sound of glass shattering.

***

Richie stared blankly at the water and glass shards that littered the floor from the cup he had dropped.  _ Is the universe fucking with me? _

“Let him go,” he said, which earned him an even more confused look from Steve. 

“What?” 

“I said let him go. Can you give us some time alone please?”

“Rich-”

“Steve, please,” Richie urged, his voice starting to wobble as tears began to form. Steve looked like he was going to say more, but he thankfully decided against it and turned back to the guard.

“Let him go.” He heard the guard huff before complying and walking off with Steve. Footsteps entered the room and the door clicked shut. Richie still didn’t raise his head.  _ I’m going to pass out. _ A few more seconds of silence went by before the other man broke it.

“Rich, please look at me.” His voice sounded like he, too, was on the verge of tears. Slowly, he picked his head up and turned around. The sight in front of him made Richie’s breath get caught in his throat. The man smiled at him.

“There he is.”

“Eddie?” Richie choked out, not believing that any of this was happening. 

“What, no silly nicknames?” Eddie smirked up at him. That was all it took for Richie to completely break down and pull him into a bone crushing hug.

“What are you doing here?” he whimpered into Eddie’s neck.  _ Holy shit, Eddie’s neck! _

“I live here.”

“I never pegged you for a city boy, Eds.” 

“I never did, either.”

“How in the hell did you end up at my show?”

“Sheer fucking will power, that’s how.” Richie let out a wet laugh at that.

“I had to see you,” Eddie continued, his voice softer than before. Richie’s smile grew.

“I liked your song, Rich.” Richie’s smile morphed into a nervous lip purse.

“You did?”

“I missed you so fucking much. Even when I didn’t know what I was missing.” Richie could feel Eddie’s tears soaking through his shirt. Before he could say anything, Eddie inhaled sharply and pushed away. The lack of closeness made Richie’s chest hurt.

“Rich, I need to say this before my brain catches up to my mouth. I crashed my car when Mike called me.” Richie’s eyebrows flew up in alarm.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” he asked frantically, arms outstretched to Eddie once again as if to examine him. 

“I’m fine, Rich. Better than fine. I crashed my car because that call made me remember things. Not just Derry. Not just the losers. You know what I remembered?”

“What, Spagheds?” Richie’s voice was shaky. 

“That I’m in love with you. I was then, and I still am.” Richie froze. He was pretty sure his brain was short circuiting. In front of him, Eddie was looking at him expectantly. Panic and regret started to cloud over his eyes as the seconds passed.

“Rich?” And that was all it took to break Richie out of his trance. He surged forward and connected his own lips to Eddie’s with startling urgency. It took no time at all for Eddie to close his eyes and kiss back, hands sliding up into Richie’s hair. Richie grasped at whatever he could get ahold of in disbelief.  _ No way is this happening.  _ Eddie moaned into his mouth as Richie’s leg slid in between his own against his growing erection.  _ Never mind. This is definitely happening. _ Before it could progress into something that probably shouldn’t happen in his dressing room, Richie reluctantly pulled away and rested his head against Eddie’s forehead.

“You have no idea how long I waited for you to say that,” Richie admitted, a giant smile on his face as he struggled to catch his breath. Eddie smiled back at him.

“I think I might.”

**Author's Note:**

> Message From Mattie to the group chat: lol why is eddie running backstage


End file.
